Alternate Harry
by Pharuss
Summary: Tossed into the fabric of reality after dying, Harry steps from one strange world to the other, ever searching for one that is like his own. Lies, deceit and intrigue. Much becomes clear to our young hero as he unravels the wizarding world one onion layer after the other. And with knowledge... comes power. Harry/Multi. Alternate Universe
1. Prologue

**A/N: This story came about through many little nuggets gathered from different stories and my own imagination. Many of you who have visited other stories might recognize a few hints to certain ideas but I do try to get my own spin on the entire thing. All I can say is that I hope you enjoy what I created.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing and will never profit from this little fiction.**

* * *

 **Prologue:**

Standing before him, like the sword of Damocles, ready to reap his life with but the twitch of a brow stood Lord Voldemort. His pale features and narrowed red eyes glaring at him like he had won first place in the world's biggest nuisance contest. But despite this, there was a smile on the man's face as he gazed upon Harry.

They had formed a circle around them both since he arrived in the clearing, hushed whispers echoing around from time to time. The sound of a bound and gagged Hagrid as he cried and struggled to break free reached Harry's ears, but he only glanced at the half-giant before returning his gaze back to the one person that started it all.

"Hello, Tom."

The smile adorning Voldemort's features stretched even further as he fingered the elder wand in his hands.

"Why hello there, _Harry_. Have you come to die like I asked you to? Have you come to sacrifice yourself so your friends may live? Have you come… _to play the hero one last time_?"

The chuckles around them and the cruel smile that Voldemort still sported through his little speech would have gotten to a lesser man. Thankfully, Harry was not such a man.

"No. I have come to shake hands and to negotiate peace via an honorable duel that only allows stunners."

The silence that followed those words could have deafened a troll.

"Oh wait, just kidding. I doubt you would agree to that. Only darker spells for you, isn't it _Tom_?"

This time the smile disappeared.

"I see you can still joke around in your current situation. That is either very brave, or very stupid."

Harry simply shrugged.

"Little of both if you ask me."

Unlike what most might suspect, this response stumped the Dark Lord for a good few seconds before he once again regained his composure.

"I see what is going on here. You have made peace with yourself and truly come to die, haven't you Harry?"

The curiosity in Voldemort's voice was obvious to the surrounding crowd but no one dared to even breath as they waited for a response. Nobody wanted to be on the receiving end of the Dark Lord's wand when he smiled like that, waiting for his foe to answer.

"Yes, I indeed have. Unlike some who cling to life or any form of such like a cockroach in a nuclear winter, I have long since accepted the fact that death is a part of life. For neither can exist without the other. You should try it sometime Tom."

Just imagining the cold embrace of death however sent a shiver of dread and fear down the Dark Lord's spine, so instead he decided to ignore those last teasing words for now. Potter's time would come soon after all.

"What about your friends that are weeping for you right now Harry? Will you just leave them alone to my mercy without putting up the usual fight? Have you truly accepted the inevitable?"

Voldemort just couldn't help and be curious. Until now, the boy had defied all expectations he had of him. First, he merely saw him as a weak little boy despite the prophecy, but after a few failures that should have never happened he had gotten more careful with his approach. Eventually he had to agree that Harry Potter was indeed a very powerful young wizard. Not at the level of himself or Dumbedore but, and he was loath to admit it, they both were past their prime at this point and while Voldemort could never truly die, he could grow weaker with age.

Compared to his younger self of the same age, the Potter brat had him easily beat in pure power alone by an entire league. He had fought the boy in the graveyard himself and even after the third task and all the magic he used in it as well as the following duel the boy had only been emotionally drained, not magically.

It was frightening to imagine what he would become in 5 years, let alone 10.

This was why he had pushed his war effort the way he had. Because Voldemort had become truly afraid the more he dealt with Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

Turning his blood red gaze once again to the emerald green that was his foe's, he waited for an answer.

The boy closed his eyes for a moment and let out a sigh before opening them again.

"I am _tired_ , Tom. Tired of constantly fighting for my life, fearing for my friends, being manipulated by others and doing something because fate has decreed it so. I am sick of it all, Tom. You know how I grew up. You have seen it in my mind so it's no surprise that I have hated my life for a long time now. I thought it would get better once it was clear why everyone treated me the way they did but instead of living the life I was promised, I encountered one life-threatening adventure after the other.

My first kill was with **eleven**. Quirrel, for all his faults and being possessed by you, was an adult that died quite literally beneath my hands. Instead of getting therapy about everything that went on in that third floor, I had one conversation with the headmaster before he sent me to the Dursleys.

In my second year we had that whole 'Heir of Slytherin' thing going on. An entire school turned on their savior in the blink of an eye and I had to fight a sixty-foot-long basilisk with only a sword. Once again, no therapy or even a proper check-up. Simply sending me off to my personal Azkaban right after was enough.

This went on every year since I entered the magical world Tom. I can barely go a single week without having to duel, talk some sense into someone or figure out another clue to the various puzzles that Albus 'bloody' Dumbledore loves to leave around.

I'm sick of it all. I just want it to end at this point."

The audience of gathered Death Eaters from all walks of life and even Voldemort himself were stunned at this admission, some could even understand a bit of what he meant. The moans coming from the bound half-giant were ignored by all.

The Dark Lord himself looked back on the boy's life mentally and had to agree that no normal human being would have been able to go through all of that without scars being left behind. And Harry seemed to have quite a few of those still left untreated. Was it really a wonder he had become somewhat suicidal after being given the chance to simply end their little game?

"I must admit this comes as a surprise," he started, weighing his words carefully "but it is not something I cannot get behind. You have been through a lot in your young life, haven't you Harry? Lost so many whom you would call family. Even though I will never be able to understand, I can accept that to others this sense of loss is quite devastating, so I will allow your choice, in my eternal grace. Come before me Potter. Step forward, so you may die."

The grin threating to split his face as he said those words followed by his own feelings that had come close to what others had described to him as joy were a first for the Dark Lord, but a welcome one this time.

And just like he hoped, the boy did as he was told and walked up to him while meeting his blood-red gaze.

He had always admired the spine in the young man that now stood before him. It was something rarely seen these days, he had made sure of that.

With one final glance into those killing curse green eyes he uttered the words softly, merely a whisper in the gathered crowd.

" _ **Avada Kedavra**_."

The flash of green was as bright as ever and when it faded, only the crumpled form of the boy that had defied him more than any other was visible on the cold forest ground.

Staring at him for longer than was probably necessary, with none of his loyal Death Eaters daring to move during it, he eventually turned his gaze skyward in a contemplative mood. All around him Death Eaters started to slowly break out into cheer as one half-giant began to sob in muffled agony.

After some time however, he was forced to address those that gathered here today and followed him so zealously.

"Storm the castle. Kill all those that resist after they hear the news." He told them, eyes still locked on the stars.

As they quickly left the clearing to follow his orders while flinging curses at the still crying form of Rubeus Hagrid that they dragged along with them, Tom Riddle gazed one last time at the broken form of his greatest foe before turning and leaving to lead his army to victory.

No one saw said body of the Boy-Who-Lived turning into ashes mere seconds after everyone departed the clearing. And with none the wiser, the universe came to a lurching halt, and everything went pear-shaped.

* * *

 **A/N: So it begins...**


	2. Chapter 1: Infinity and Beyond

**A/N: As it was already written beforehand, I give you the official chapter 1 of this little story. I probably had a bit too much fun with creating some of these snippets but when the muse comes knocking you don't shut the door in her face. Hope you all enjoy it and yes, these are a few clues as to what he will be up to in the future.**

 ** **Disclaimer: I own nothing and will never profit from this little fiction.****

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Infinity and Beyond**

* * *

 **-23rd Alternate Reality-**

* * *

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived was currently sitting in the library of Hogwarts. He was in his 4th year at this point in time and it had been two weeks since he arrived in this reality. It had taken about three different timelines with the following deaths to understand that he was indeed not losing his mind and that this was also not hell. At least not the kind he was familiar with.

Unlike what one might expect when one finds himself at the other end of the killing curse, waking up afterwards had been painless to say the least.

He had been in his third year in that second reality then, and many things hadn't made much sense.

Hermoine Granger, his best female friend, had died a year earlier from the Basilisk's gaze and Ron never again spoke another word with him after he was too late to rescue Ginny. The resurrection of a younger Riddle who was soon after in turn killed by an enraged McGonagall was something he would have never thought possible.

He had spent over a year stumbling around before eventually dying once the Tri-Wizard tournament came around again in his fourth year. It had been a rather gruesome death too, with that horntail biting him nearly in half on his broom.

Each time he died he ended up in a different world with slightly different events and facts.

Finding out what was different from before was the only way to stay alive long enough to change things, but after his fourth failed attempt with more people than ever before dying, he had given up.

Not because he no longer cared, but because he had to accept that he wasn't equipped to deal with some of the things the universe liked to throw his way. The truth was, other than passable dueling against the average Death Eater, Harry knew next to nothing about magic or its culture.

And without Ron by his side to distract him from learning, he discovered a thirst for knowledge that could have rivaled Hermione's in her worst moments.

Not being in mortal peril every single second of his life did wonders for his psyche too once he got used to the whole 'dying and starting over from scratch' thing.

The things that changed when he arrived in an alternate reality were some of the most random and disturbing things he had ever seen prior to his first death, and that said something.

Harry was thankful that at least in this one everything seemed to be somewhat normal.

This thought however quickly evaporated when he felt a large hand landing on his thigh while he was reading, with a certain person's voice whispering in his ear in a way that made him nearly physically sick.

"Potter, it seems like you have been ignoring me and not been attending our weekly _**detentions**_ like I told you to." Severus Snape murmured in a sultry voice close to his ear. "That will be another month with me and this time I will not be gentle with you. You better show up tonight or it will only get worse." The man's hand had slowly been massaging his crotch during the speech in a deliberate manner and Harry had to use every ounce and scrap of Occlumency he had learned over the timelines to keep himself from reacting, both _physically_ and _violently_.

"Understood, sir." He replied in a steady tone. Only after another squeeze and nod did the greasy haired potions professor leave his presence.

Harry was staring at the book in his hands unseeingly, finally connecting the dots as to what just happened.

Glancing at the words on the cover one last time to help his improving memory aided by his Occlumency to keep them in mind, he pulled his wand, pointed it at his own face and let his emotions reign free.

" _ **Avada Kedavra.**_ "

* * *

 **-74th Alternate Reality-**

* * *

"And with an absolutely gigantic lead, Gryffindor wins the game with Four-thousand-two-hundred and fourty to two-hundred and ten against Slytherin!" The voice of Lee Jordan finally announced after a six-hour long game on the pitch.

Harry had watched the entire thing and could only shake his head. He had always known that the game was biased towards the seeker in a way, but to give the winning team over four thousand points whenever the snitch was caught made this only a 'who has the better seeker' competition.

For now, at least in Harry's opinion, his only gripe with this reality were the quidditch rules, which were skewed to high hell and back.

Seriously, what was the point of even watching the entire team to begin with?

* * *

 **-122nd Alternate Reality-**

* * *

"Ron! Oh god! Breath Ron, breath!" A sobbing Hermione screamed during breakfast one morning in the great hall. Harry, who had distanced himself from those that were once important to him each time he arrived in a new world, watched the entire thing a few seats away with a mix of fascination and awe.

Ronald Billius Weasley, always known for having a big appetite no matter what time of the day, had evidently tried to inhale an entire roast chicken without chewing.

Just looking at the way his throat and chest bulged from the food made one wonder if the boy had unhinged his jaw like a snake to fit something that big down his gullet. The implications alone that Ron knew how to use his mouth and throat in such a way were not happy thoughts.

Ron on the other hand was currently clawing at his own chest and neck while his face colored a Vernon Dursley shade of purple. Students and Professors alike stood around the poor lad in a half circle with wide eyes and the laughter and jeering of one Draco Malfoy could be heard above the gasps and screams of all others. Why no one had tried to vanish the thing that was currently killing the Weasley boy, Harry would never know, and so he simply watched their pitiful attempts of saving the gluttonous child, without really getting anywhere at the end of the day.

Wizards and their logic.

* * *

 **-159th Alternate Reality-**

* * *

It had taken a long time for Harry to get over his shyness and to follow his more baser instincts and desires. Opening his eyes to the sunlight that was falling through the window on his right, he couldn't help but glance at the body lying next to him in bed.

Septima Vector. Generally, not someone Harry had ever interacted with in his first life except for a few words each year. She had always struck him as strict and cold in personality. If someone told him this woman was the same closet pervert that he stumbled upon some 10 or so realities back, he would have laughed in their face.

But the truth spoke louder than words.

Many things changed each time he died, but this was one of the constants. Septima Vector was a lonely woman with certain needs, that much he had discovered easily. That she was warm, friendly and caring as well as loving once you got beneath her shell was an entirely different matter.

Feeling her stirring next to him he glanced into a pair of dark brown eyes that were currently studying him like she sometimes did one of her arithmancy problems.

"Morning love," he whispered, only to then stretch a hand towards her and push a loose strand of raven black hair out of her face and behind her ear. It brought a smile to his face when he saw her blink a few times before her cheeks visibly colored. The shy but genuine smile on her face helped too.

"Morning Harry," she replied before leaning forward and kissing him softly on his lips.

"You know that we can't keep doing this, don't you?" Septima said once she leaned back with a quirked eyebrow.

"I see no problem so long as we both don't tell, and isn't it a bit late to say that now? It has been nearly two years since I practically lived in this bed. When are you going to start being honest with yourself my dear Septima?" He teased with a knowing smile as he watched her avoid his gaze, the same red coloring her cheeks again.

"I have no idea what you are talking about." She huffed before turning around.

This was a mistake, as she wasn't prepared for what followed. Quicker than she could react he had turned and pinned her to the bed while looming over her with an evil little smile on his face as his hands started moving up and down her naked form.

"You do know that I am not letting anyone ever see you like this again except for me, don't you? You are mine and its time you admit it my love!" He hissed as he watched her struggle half-heartedly for a few seconds before surrendering to his touch and letting out a soft meowl when he began to tease her mounds.

"Look at me and tell me I am wrong." Harry demanded as he stopped his ministrations.

Emerald green met dark brown for several tense seconds before her features softened and a coy smile made itself apparent on her face.

"You love playing the role of the alpha male Harry and a woman has to play hard to get if she wants her man to be interested in her for the long run." The teasing grin that now adorned her lips withered somewhat when she noticed the burning gaze that focused on her once her words left her mouth.

Gently, as if afraid that she would break under his touch, Harry cupped her beautiful face between his hands as he stared deeply into her soul and began to speak.

"I, Harry James Potter, will only take Septima Vector as my sexual partner and there will be no other for as long as I live, so mote it be." He finished speaking and could see her eyes widen to the size of saucers when she clearly felt the flash of magic wash over her, once the oath was finished.

The look she was giving him once he let go of her face was filled with intense emotions and she stayed quiet for a long time as they simply stared at one another.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he could feel her moving beneath him as her legs opened and spread before him invitingly. He watched the dripping sensuality at her lower region with a hungry gaze and only her sultry voice snapped his eyes back to her face.

"You Harry, deserve a very big reward. Come and get it, tiger." And just like that he spent the weekend in the arms of his lover.

Septima herself spoke the same oath to him mere days later.

It was then that he decided that whenever he had reached a reality and power as well as knowledge level that was acceptable, he would not forget to make sure that they were once again together. It would take time to get there sure, but he could wait and had become very patient over the decades. Septima Vector was his and no one else was allowed to lay their hands on her. Not as long as he still had a single breath in his throat. The same was true for the others too.

* * *

 **-248th Alternate Reality-**

* * *

"… because I am Lord Voldemort, ruler of Magical Britain!" The clearly insane man before him finished. It had taken him a good five minutes too.

"And now, say hello to our dear guest. **Harry Potter**!" With a swirl of his dark cloak he pointed a single bony finger in his general direction and turned towards him, only to stop dead in his tracks.

Unlike what he had been expecting, namely finding Harry tied against his father's grave, his sworn enemy instead stood leaning against it with crossed arms and a single raised eyebrow.

"Finally done playing to the crowd Tommy-boy? Took you long enough. I was starting to think you had forgotten about me." It amused Harry to see the twitch in the man's left eye as Voldemort turned to his most loyal of followers, Wormtail.

"Did I not order you to bind him properly you insufferable fool!? Crucio!" Barely had the word left his mouth while pointing his wand, the small balding man was already writhing on the ground while screaming his lungs out.

"Wow, talk about bad temper after being resurrected only thanks to that little guy. Ever gotten any written complaints about how you treat your little club? Although, I have to admit that if you reward everyone who steps out of line like that then it's no wonder so many denounced you when you disappeared. Torturing those that serve you is a pretty bad policy."

The dozen or so Death Eater's that had followed the Mark's call stood silently around Harry and their Master who abruptly ended his spell when the Boy-Who-Lived taunted him once again. As he slowly turned to those emerald green's he swore that it would be for the last time.

"Brave to the point of suicidal. Godric Gryffindor would be proud. But are you as honorable as him too? How about we have a little duel, just to settle our differences of course."

There was a cruel smile on Voldemort's pale lips that stretched them incredibly thin and allowed his razor-sharp teeth to sparkle in the night air.

"Sure." Harry replied with a thin smile to the surprise of those surrounding them.

With the Death Eaters forming a loose circle, both Harry and Voldemort entered a combat ready stance.

"Any last words?" The Dark Lord taunted, evil glinting in his red eyes like the twinkle of a certain headmaster.

"Just two. _**Avada Kedavra.**_ " Before anyone had time to react as those famous words left the lips of the Boy-Who-Lived with no one expecting them, not even the Dark Lord himself, a flash of green quickly blinded everyone involved.

Once it was gone, all that remained was the crumpled form of the freshly resurrected Lord Voldemort lying dead on the ground.

Eyes bulged behind masks, breathing picked up and quivered. It even went so far that some of the gathered got weak knees and mumbled incoherently as they stared at the 14-year-old teen.

"Well that was anticlimactic, should have done that years ago, really. Now if only I could get to that cup and I would be done here but no, damn goblin wards." Harry mumbled before turning and disapparating with a soft plop.

It would be hours later that the Death Eaters that witnessed their Lord's demise with their own eyes were brave enough to follow suit.

* * *

 **-344th Alternate Reality-**

* * *

Occlumency.

It was something Harry had hated ever since Snape tried to 'teach' it to him. Imagine his surprise when he found out in one early alternate reality that what the man had done under Dumbledore's orders was not only worth a stay in Azkaban but also the exact opposite of how you learned the art.

He had, in a sense, flayed Harry's natural shields until nothing was left. It was no wonder that there were more and more visions that assaulted him after the fact than ever before.

This naturally threw up a few very pointed questions towards a particular Headmaster and as to why he allowed this to happen.

Harry had always known that the man manipulated him, even in his first life. But the depth and breadth of the man's schemes that he managed to uncover painstakingly thanks to countless different realities, comparing stories and the use of more Veritaserum than existed in any single world ever, helped his search for answers along quite a bit.

Slowly but surely, thinking back to everything that happened with the help of his Occlumency, comparing past events he knew definitely happened and questioning the people that participated with either Legilimency or an unforgivable or two, he found the web of the bearded one.

And what a spider web it was. Complex, convoluted and completely insane. Those were the 3 C's he liked to use whenever Harry thought of what he had found out.

Ever since Tom Riddle appeared under his new name, Dumbledore knew he had to do something to stop this new Dark Lord from rising.

His fear was so great of having to kill another person however, that he stayed his hand time and time again, letting others take the fall instead while always retreating.

And ground the Dark Lord found after a few battles. Much of it too.

He had dug his claws deep into the hearts and minds of the population before the Headmaster realized his mistake. Soon enough there was no one willing to fight anymore, only hiding and cowering were options now.

Even Albus Dumbledore himself was starting to despair as he tried to think of any plan or scheme, use any and all means necessary to stop the change that was about to hit the magical and muggle world like a ton of bricks.

That he forced countless families into the depths of hell with his actions never even crossed the old man's mind. So much lost and only very little gained.

It was then.

At the darkest hour, a miracle happened. The prophecy fell into Dumbledore's lap.

And for the Greater Good, many would have to live in suffering so that one Albus Dumbledore could lead the people once again with him at the head of the nation.

That a certain orphan baby would have to die like cattle after being trained to do its one stunt while another baby was orphaned thanks to its parents being tortured into insanity was a small price to pay, all things considered.

Because at the end of the day, it was all for the Greater Good of Albus Dumbledore.

Only that cursed ring threw a wrench into the man's plans.

With his life nearing its end he decided to take as many with him as he could. By not passing on the most vital of information and only leaving a trail of bread crumbs he indeed succeeded in that endeavor. The man wanted to die as a martyr for good instead of the vile and manipulative person he was deep down all along.

Harry himself however had other plans.

Despite how much he had grown to loath the man, he had to admit there was one thing that they both enjoyed.

Scheming for another's demise was, as he had discovered, one of his favorite pastimes.

And plans he schemed indeed.

* * *

 **-549th Alternate Reality-**

* * *

With a careful hand, Harry etched another line into the stone floor beneath him, making sure not to deviate by even a millimeter.

It had been countless realities ago that he started to research runes.

Learning them was something he had done long ago, one of the first things he did even, when he discovered that this was an opportunity to do things he had missed the first time around.

But there was a difference between learning and researching.

Nearly everyone used runes and rune combination called clusters that proved to work and were generally safe, as long as one gets the etching part right.

Inventing new runes or combining volatile ones was a slow process, further turning into a snail's pace by the frequent magical explosions that claimed many a genius' lives.

If it wasn't for Harry's circumstances he would never be able to freely experiment like this considering that even with those 'safe' runes there were countless accidents and deaths each year.

With one final scratch, he finished the last cluster and smiled in pride.

Said smile lasted for about half a second before the entire thing lit up in a flash of magic and violently exploded.

His last thought in that reality was that he would have to change a few things once again if he ever wanted to get this right.

* * *

 **-591st Alternate Reality-**

* * *

To say that Harry was surprised was an understatement when he arrived in this reality.

He had seen many things that he thought impossible or at least improbable, but to wake up as a scion of the most Ancient and Noble house of Black instead of Potter was indeed a strange twist of fate. Let's not even take into account that he entered this reality at his birth, the earliest he had ever started. No, what really threw him for a loop was that he had been born twenty years earlier than his actual birth date.

That he was the brother of Sirius and Regulus, Cousin of Narcissa, Bellatrix and Andromeda came as a troubling realization. What this gave him however, that came as a most positive surprise, was information.

A lot of it.

As far as he could tell, other than his untimely birth, there was little to no deviation of the timeline before his original birth.

He went to Hogwarts with his new family, learned the family magic that was at best borderline dark, gleaned info on some of his enemies and soaked it all up like a sponge.

Harry had long since lost any notion with there being a difference between light and dark magic. Sure, light magic tended to be a lot less lethal and some of the darker magics could be highly addictive or corrosive to the mind but other than that it was always the intent of the caster that determined if the wizard or witch was of light or dark. Not the magic.

Many would agree to disagree with that, one such prime example being Albus Dumbledore, but Harry had not the two Knuts to care what the old goat thought of him after his long list of manipulations and schemes that Harry had managed to uncover over the alternate realities.

That both Narcissa and Bellatrix turned out to be much more pleasant company than he first thought, without a certain Malfoy and Dark Lord twisting their minds and dreams into something they were not, in the end did surprise our unfortunate protagonist.

It was with a smile that he left that particular world, certain about his hunch and views and already implementing a few extra plans for his great scheme to deliver each person on his rather long list their just desert once he finally settled on a reality that fit the bill.

* * *

 **-733rd Alternate Reality-**

* * *

With a relived sigh, so unlike the tortured screams from minutes before, a certain Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump crumpled to the ground. His robes, previously of a neon purple color with moving pictures of arithmantic formulas drifting up and down his form, were now ripped and torn with blood quelling out of various injuries, soaking the cloth.

A figure of a young boy with unruly black hair stood over him, wand still pointed at the now prone man and a manic grin plastered on his face as his killing curse green eyes sparkled with delight.

"Thank you very much Professor. I have to admit, without your help I would have never been able to find out about that ritual your old friend Grindelwald used to get his Occlumency to master level in only a short two weeks."

With but a flick of his wand the body of the most powerful wizard of his time brutally slammed into the oak desk behind him with a loud moan escaping the trembling lips of the aged man.

"I do apologize Professor. I know this might hurt now and what I have done will not be forgiven but I am doing it… how did you and your friend always call it… oh yes, for the _**Greater Good**_."

Unable to stifle the smile that spread once again over his face, Harry quickly sent the old man on his next great adventure as he would soon enough go on his own. Only that his would be of a different nature of course, there was still much to do after all.

* * *

 **-846th Alternate Reality-**

* * *

Letting out a low growl, Harry ignored the scathing look that the goblin threw his way and once again began the recasting of the molten iron. He had been living with that particular race underground for nearly half a year now and learning from them was not easy or as rewarding in knowledge as he once thought.

They were stingy with what they knew about forging and magic, unwilling to show their craft and creed to one such as him, a human wizard. He would give them 5 years.

If they still hadn't opened any of their doors to invite him in by then he would rip the knowledge from every single one of their minds, be they man, woman or child.

Patience was something he had learned long ago, and he was nothing if not patient. Wasting his time however was not something he liked to do, so for his sanity, and especially their own, he hoped that they would not test him as so many before them had tried to do.

Throwing another calculating look at the bubbling liquid, he judged it ready and prepared his tools as well as a bucket charmed to always be full of water.

Giving a quick wave of his hand, the iron flew up into the air and settled into the laid-out molds before settling.

He would have to wait for 2 hours before reheating the then cast iron once again to form it to his will. Magic would have to be pounded into the unwilling material by his own hands, that much he had figured out on his own by watching the goblins.

The 'how' was his current problem and it agitated him to no end.

He was seriously starting to hope that they would not help him in these five years. There was after all nothing better for relieving stress than breaking the minds of an entire race to calm any anger or hate that flared to life. The thought alone brought a smile to his face that frightened even the hardiest of goblin warriors that passed by his forge.

Oh, if only they knew.

* * *

 **A/N: Notice how Harry's personality started to slowly shift during his travels? Yeah, me neither.**


	3. Chapter 2: The Right Time and Place

**A/N: Bit shorter than I would have liked but I got everything done in it that I wanted and saw no need to drag things out unnecessarily. Hope you all enjoy.**

 ** **Disclaimer: I own nothing and will never profit from this little fiction.****

* * *

 **Chapter 2: The Right Time and Place**

* * *

 **-1067th Alternate Reality-**

* * *

With a start, Harry sat up.

The pain that followed this action was not something he had expected. Rubbing his smarting head as the world slowly blurred into focus, Harry rubbed his eyes to clear them of any lingering sleep.

It was dark around him, nearly pitch black if he was honest with himself, even though he was no painter and couldn't tell anyone what type of black he was currently dealing with. Wow, he had hit his head a lot harder than he thought.

Gingerly touching around his body, Harry soon enough knocked against walls on both sides of his body.

It took a while for the gears to turn in his head as he started to search for a wand, trinket or gold coins of any kind on his body. When he found none of the before mentioned and confirmed that he was indeed a lot smaller than he remembered being during his teenage years, a small smile slowly spread on his face.

It was too early to hope that this was the one, but it was as good a start as any.

With casual ease he called up his magic, so much smaller than he was used to and a little unresponsive, and blasted the hinges off the door to his cupboard. Blinking owlishly as he watched said door flying through the air and smacking against the adjacent wall with a loud crack, he stared at his outstretched hand with confusion.

"I am going to need a lot more practice before I try to apparate. No need to literally leave my head behind when I forget the keys." Harry murmured to himself as he crawled out into the hallway and stood up. He could already hear the stamping footfalls of his Uncle tumbling down the stairs and Harry had to blink a few times when a light flicked to life above him. It was odd not to have glasses yet.

Staring up into the face of one Vernon Dursley as it turned a very ugly shade of purple, Harry had to wonder if he would feel the same if he was woken up in the dead of the night by the noise he had just created.

Probably.

Sadly, his Uncle deserved that and more in spades, so there wasn't even a twinge of guilt as he watched the man rearing back a fist.

Similar to a car-crash in slow motion, he watched the man erupt in morbid fascination as spittle flew towards him like artillery fire during the war while Vernon shouted.

"What do you actually think you are doing at this hour, boy?! How dare you make a racket like this at half-past two in the morning while hard working people like me have to stand up early you ungrateful, lazy waste of space! Oh, you are going to get it now, I am going to make sure of that. I knew from the first moment I saw you that you would be a burden to this household but if I have to beat manners into you while I beat the magic out, by god I will!"

During this entire episode that his overweight Uncle was having, the man was so lost in his anger that he didn't even notice that not a drop of his spraying spit ever reached Harry or that his Nephew looked completely unfazed as he looked up at him. And as a fist started to descend on a young boy's face, there wasn't even a second that the adult in the room pondered how the boy had escaped the cupboard that had a lock on the outside of it.

To say that this was a grave mistake was an understatement.

Having no real control over his magic for the finer arts currently and not wanting to even bother, Harry grabbed his magic that was thrumming under his skin, watched as a threat in the form of fifty pounds of arm swung towards him, and _pushed_. The result was nearly biblical in its proportions.

An incredible force hit the body of his Uncle and his entire form trembled like a ripple in a pond. Barely a scarce second later air was displaced and gravity lost its hold on a specimen of the human race as he sailed through the air. The ground, walls and hallway cracked apart like an egg over a bowl from the shockwave that traveled through the immediate area as every picture frame, window and door in the entire bottom floor of Number 4, Privet Drive was blasted apart. The door leading out into the garden in the kitchen was barely hanging onto the frame it was force into as the lock gave way to brute force. The front door on the other hand was much closer to the epicenter of the magical push and was reduced to little more than kindling as the pieces descended on the neighbor's lawn.

That all of this happened in near silence except for the groaning of a strained foundation and audible snapping of hinges was probably the strangest thing. Even the glass had made no real noise as it tumbled to the floor all around the house.

Finally, after what seemed to Harry as ages, his Uncle eventually reached the end of his journey as his body flew through the opening where once there had been a front door and tumbled to the ground outside. Only a small groan escaped Vernon's mouth before he went still. Probably unconscious.

Harry merely shrugged and exited the house that had never been a home to him.

It was time to see if things were as they should be or if he would have to wait for a better reality to come along to spend eternity in.

* * *

Compared to what the average wizard or witch might expect, breaking into the Ministry of Magic was quite easy. Especially if you could manage a disillusionment charm that every Hogwarts student was taught during sixth year. Only that you had to be able to manage it wandlessly if you possessed no wand of your own was the real problem for Harry at the moment.

After a few failed tries, which resulted in an alley turning into an orange colored garden, two sentient waste bins that decided it was time for a vacation to Peru and a case of bad indigestion, the magic finally took. It was good to know that he could at least manage it when he needed to later. If he even needed it at all.

Focusing his magic for a simple point me spell that would hopefully not backfire spectacularly, Harry was relieved to feel the mental tug telling him which direction to go.

Harry had, after many different realities, discovered that some magic taught at Hogwarts was misinformation on the highest order.

The Four-Point spell or otherwise known as 'Point-Me' could show the caster which way was north. But there was a reason it was called 'Four-Point' spell. Length, Height, Width. The three dimensions that made up our visible reality made up most of the basis of the Point-Me Spell. The fourth point of reference being Direction.

Guided by the casters magic giving the entire construct direction, it turned from a simple spell that acted like a compass to a magic devouring vortex that could point to any and all knowledge of places, things, secrets; you name it. If you asked it to show you the way to your father even if you never met the man since he left you while you were a toddler, it would do just that.

The Point-Me spell was one of the earliest discoveries in divination that worked precisely. Knowledge thought lost millennia ago was rediscovered by one Harry James Potter when he decided to delve into spell creation. That said discovered spell took more magic to cast than some wizards had in their body was but a small detail for the doors it opened for Harry.

Knowing the general direction of his target told him enough of where to go all in itself. Gathering his magic once more, and noticing the dip that holding the Point-Me spell for even a scant few seconds had created, a pulse went through the empty street he was currently standing in, unfelt by the sleeping muggles in the immediate area.

Soon enough a loud bang and the sound of screeching tires heralded the arrival of one of the only travel options for a wizard without a floo connection or working wand, the Knight Bus.

Once Harry's ticket for quick travel came to a dangerously close stop next to his toes, the doors opened and instead of Stan Shunpike, a withered and grey haired small witch hopped onto the sidewalk next to him.

"Oh dear, all alone at this hour _little one_? Did you lose your parents?" She had the most innocent expression but her twisted features and the way she was licking her lips told Harry enough to know she was a Hag.

Unlike what most might expect when confronted with this rather rude way of saying that a person was ugly, a Hag in the wizarding world spoke of a magical disease that could affect witches.

Just like a Werewolf they could be dangerous and their blood was sought after by quite a few skilled potion masters. Unlike lycanthropy, their disease could be cured with the right potions in the early stages of infection.

That the ones that remained felt a nagging urge to consume children's flesh even outside their one-week madness around Halloween didn't do Harry any real favors as he tried to step past the salivating witch.

"De-aging Potion accident, just trying to get something done at the Ministry and then I'm on my way home." He quickly said while trying to ignore the roving eyes and twitching fingers as he pushed past and sat on one of the beds. It took the witch a few deep breaths to get her thoughts back in order again before she rapped against the pane separating them to the driver and they shot off into London. Trying to remain on the bed alone took nearly all of Harry's concentration so he didn't notice a presence near him until a hand began massaging his thigh.

One quick turn of his head had him face to face with the Hag that had a dazed look in her eyes and was licking one long serpentine tongue over a wart covered lip.

Rolling his eyes and deciding enough was enough, he funneled his magic towards his eyes and took a single _look_ into her own. One quick stab of overpowered Legilimency later and he left the snoring Hag lying on the bed he had previously been sitting on while he wandered to another.

Sure, he could have killed her or taken a deep _look_ , but just because she could be dangerous didn't mean she deserved such treatment. Memories of Remus wouldn't let him judge an afflicted person he didn't know too quickly.

Barely five minutes later he exited the bus with a quick thanks to the driver while layering a small compulsion charm over the hunched over man to make him hesitate in asking if Harry had paid already or not. Magic made things so easy sometimes.

Scant few moments later he was standing in a muggle telephone box in Whitehall at quarter past three in the morning. Having only the body of a small child, Harry was starting to feel a bit fatigued but ignored it for now.

Dialing a quick '62442', a woman's voice started to echo in the enclosed space he was standing in.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

Thinking for a moment, Harry turned the receiver in his hands a few times before speaking into it.

"Lord Voldemort, ruler of Magical Britain and I am on my way to plunder the Department of Mysteries."

There was a moment of silence and Harry thought he had tripped some kind of alarm until the voice once again echoed in the box.

"Thank you. Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

There was a sound of something falling to the floor and Harry had to take a few moments to find it on the ground. As he held the square silver badge into the dim light of a distant streetlight, he could barely make out the words _Lord Voldemort, Breaking and Entering_ on it. Unable to stifle the snicker that escaped him as he pinned it to his shirt that was nearly three sizes too big, Harry slowly descended into the bowels of the British Magical Government.

The Atrium of the Ministry was completely empty at this hour, and with nary a sound the telephone box ascended once again to the outside world behind Harry as he stepped out of it.

Seeing the familiar sight of the golden statues of wizard, witch, centaur, goblin and house-elf felt like a reminder that not everything that shined and twinkled was indeed riches and beauty. Even in a time of peace like now, the Magical Society of Wizards and Witches was a twisted and ugly thing once you scraped away the thin veneer.

Passing by the statues, Harry found himself soon enough before a golden gate he had never seen closed before. It did make sense that it was closed at this time of the day, better than them being so incompetent that they would leave their entire Government building open for any and all to wander into. Contemplating on what to do, Harry sent out a tendril of magic from his body and soon enough encountered a strong ward scheme once it touched the gate.

Having no wand or any real control over his power was starting to be a frustrating experience for Harry as he felt unsure in brute forcing his way inside, which he could do.

Taking a step closer, he examined the bars blocking his way and an idea formed in his mind. It was so improbable that it might as well work.

Taking another peek at the wards and enchantments on the gate to make sure what he was going to try wouldn't fry him alive, Harry put a tentative leg against it. When nothing happened, he grabbed the bar above him and pulled himself up to a small opening. It wasn't big enough to ever let an adult slip through but a 7 or 8-year-old malnourished child? It was a tight fit, but he popped through to the other side soon enough.

Harry wasn't sure if he should be glad or sad that he was able to ignore a blockade that would have stopped anyone except maybe Dumbledore or Voldemort with such relative ease. Given, he had some extenuating circumstances on his side and luck, but any Animagus of small enough size could have done the same too.

Which made a new, disturbing kind of sense why Wormtail was so valued as a spy by Voldemort.

The lifts seemed to be non-functional at this time of the night, so Harry had no other option but to take the stairs. That he had to climb from the 8th to the 1st floor did put a bit of an interesting spin on his little Journey as he eventually reached the door saying _Minister of Magic and Support staff_ on it while holding his smarting side.

"J-just a moment," he mumbled to himself as he leaned against the wall, completely out of breath.

Taking a minute to recuperate, Harry eventually pushed the entrance door open and stepped on a fluffy purple carpet. Whoever had designed this level had to have been colorblind to ignore the clashing hues that assaulted his eyes as he looked around.

Passing one mahogany door after the other while reading pure-blood names from gleaming plaques that seemed to be made from pure gold, Harry eventually found the right one.

"Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister," he read out loud with a grin.

Checking the door for any charms and only finding a simple locking one, he dispelled it and opened the door.

The office reminded Harry nauseatingly of the one she had been in charge of during her tenure at Hogwarts. Pink on salmon with sleeping kitten picture frames. Oh, he had indeed found the lair of the toad in cardigan.

An oak desk was at the back of the room with a plushy, and naturally pink, armchair. Sitting in it he found his target, clearly sleeping with her head on a pile of documents.

Contrary to popular belief, Dolores Jane Umbridge was actually a half-blood that hated her muggle mother and squib brother, blaming them for everything that went wrong in her life. Even her own father she had practically exiled from the Ministry once she had a position of power in it. It was hard to say if she had ever been a pure soul or not, Harry doubted it, but a quick look should give some easy answers. If he was right it wouldn't matter too much and if he was wrong… well, he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

Smacking her on the back of the head and ignoring the shout of surprise as she awoke from her slumber, Harry grabbed her by the hair and _gazed_ into her bleary eyes. Before she had the chance to say even a single word he was inside her mind and tearing it apart as quickly as he could.

Two seconds in the real world later he let go of her head, headless of the way it smacked into the desk beneath her and ignoring the blank stare and drool coming out of her mouth. He had found what he wanted. Oh boy had he hit pay-dirt.

Legilimency could be used many ways, but the simplest way was to enter someone's mind and to interpret what memories one could lure out properly. Perception was a fickle thing, everyone saw the world differently so certain things the mind forgot from a picture or they had to be dug out painfully to be re-discovered.

One way to get around this, if you ignored the target you used it on in question, was to use a lot more power than was normally safe. In a sense, you brute-forced your way through it all until the mind shattered. Consciousness stilled and stopped as the mind fragmented and drifted apart in shards of personality and memories. This made discovering information you wanted or were looking for a **lot** easier. Instead of having to goad or guide the mind you were in repeatedly back and forth, you could simply sift through it all personally without interference.

The side-effect from this was that your target would be brain-dead afterwards.

The information that Harry discovered matched everything he wanted. Death Eaters still roamed around thanks to the power of money and bribery, the nasty ones were held in Azkaban, no one too important had died or gone 'dark' and as far as he could tell, everything was like it had been in his first world.

Naturally, taking only one mind into account for a whole world was foolish, so Harry would spend a good few days, maybe even weeks, looking into certain people and making sure everything was as it should be for his plan. Something like Nicholas Flamel not existing, for example, could have some pretty bad consequences in the long run.

Whistling a happy tune to himself, he pushed the door into the hallway outside open and once again stepped onto the purple carpet that would lead him to the stairs.

Ignored was the form of Dolores Umbridge as she slowly slipped out of her chair and tumbled to the ground in a heap. Unblinking eyes stared ahead as a small puddle of drool appeared under her chin.

Life was simply good

* * *

 **A/N: Anyone else smell burnt toast?**


	4. Chapter 3: Destiny is a Fickle Thing

**A/N: Took a bit but here is Chapter 3 with number 4 already on the way.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Destiny is a Fickle Thing**

* * *

"Any clue how this happened Robards?" Amelia asked as she stepped closer to the Senior Auror. The man simply shook his head.

"As far as we can tell, not a one. Even pulled some Unspeakables into this when it was clear that it wasn't the killing curse as she was still breathing, just not… there." His gaze flickered to the motionless body before returning to her own again.

It didn't take any mental gymnastics on her part to know that he was spooked by this case. Who in the Ministry wasn't at this point?

"Find out what you can Robards. If it can hit her it can hit anyone in the building." The man nodded and walked over to one of the robed Unspeakables.

Sighing and putting her monocle down so she could rub her tired eyes, Amelia decided to inspect the body herself again.

Two healers were working on the woman, murmuring spells under their breaths and examining her eyes for any motion or response. They had been at it for two hours already, ever since the worker from the Department of Maintenance discovered Umbridge's body.

This entire thing was a mess.

A political and societal scandal waiting to blow up in their faces and still they had neither hide nor hair of the culprit. As far as anyone could tell, Umbridge was in a coma that had put her mind in a vegetative state, but her body still lived. Nothing she had ever seen, _that_ was for sure.

At first, they thought it was just like with the Longbottoms; ugly case that one was too, but the symptoms didn't fit. For one, there was no nerve damage, let alone any damage whatsoever.

She already hated the amount of paperwork and extra hours she would have to deal with thanks to this. Whoever was responsible for it was going to end up on a _very_ short list of names that rarely lasted there. She made sure of that.

Or maybe they wouldn't.

After all, they had gotten rid of Umbridge. The culprit in question couldn't be _all_ bad, right?

* * *

Grabbing a Daily Prophet had been pretty simple, Harry just had to get to the Leaky Cauldron and pick a discarded piece up from a table. Even at this early hour, close to five, Tom was already walking around and cleaning tables that had been left dirty from the previous day's patrons. Good thing he had managed to disillusion himself before stepping into the shabby-looking establishment. The date was all he really needed, for now at least.

June 3rd, 1988 however was not something he had expected. Most realities simply started around first or second year of Hogwarts for Harry. But it was a good place to start, all things considered. He could make sure Luna's mother didn't die in around two years and save the girl a world of pain. Orchestrating things so that Cornelius Fudge didn't make it into office after Bagnold stepped down was another thing Harry added to his long list. Maybe a trip to Azkaban after he had his Magic under control was also in his cards a lot sooner than his expected timetable.

There was much to do, and having a bit over two years before Hogwarts officially started for Harry was a blessing if he had ever seen one.

"First things first however, I need to fix my magic." He mumbled before stepping towards the brickwork at the back of the pub.

Focusing his magic in a controlled burst, similar to how he had called the Knight Bus before, the bricks before him shifted and realigned themselves into an arch through which Harry stepped into Diagon Alley. It looked much the same as it normally does when he visited it for the first time in around three years.

Walking past Slug & Jiggers Apothecary and passing by Quality Quidditch Supplies, Harry took a right and went down Knockturn Alley.

The Coffin House was a shop in the deeper bowels of said Alley. It sold quite a few interesting materials and nick knacks, most of which had a thing or two to do with raising the dead. And Inferi were sadly despised by most living folk for good reason.

Ignoring the sign that said 'closed', no real surprise at this early hour, Harry examined the door before him with interest before bursting down the couple of wards in his way with brute force. The door quickly dissolved into a tar-like liquid.

Stepping over the slowly expanding puddle and manipulating his magic so it would light up the dark room a bit more, he walked around the shop and examined various displays. There were quite a few things to look at as most of these would probably only sell to any halfway respectable wizard or witch during a blue moon or two. Dragon blood from a tortured youngling, distilled hate 'use only two drops, not more', fingernails from a Homunculus, programmable brains; the list was endless. Harry however needed only one single item.

"Sinew from a Thestral dying of old age… there we are," he mumbled as he approached the slimy looking strand that had a disturbing similarity to a black tentacle. The lock wasn't even warded properly so Harry had to take all of two seconds before he wrapped the item in the cloth it was lying on and pocketed it. With nothing more to do here for now he hopped over the pool of liquid, making sure to close his eyes and mouth when he did as it was currently eating through the wood and creating black smoke, and left the shop.

Harry's next stop was quite literally across the Alley and called Dystyl Phaelanges, dealing with bones of all kind as well as horns and fangs. Oddly enough, hairs were not included on this list.

These wards were of a better kind, a good bit trickier to unravel too. Good thing Harry wasn't trying to do that as he overpowered and eventually ripped them apart. Power was such a beautiful thing.

This time the door thankfully simply crumbled to ash that moaned a bit and formed into claws that scratched the wood beneath it, much healthier for any thief trying to do his job. Blasting the strange amalgam of living ash apart with a push, Harry stepped into the shop and saw his target nearly immediately.

"The remaining fang of the legendary 'Withering Serpent', only known specimen of the Horned Serpent kind to ever kill a Nundu in single combat. If only they knew your true value."

Harry couldn't help but grin as he took a hold of the mounted fang. It was bigger than he was tall, but a quick featherlight and shrinking charm later, he carefully put it into his pocket. Thankfully the thing was no longer magic resistant like a living Horned Serpent was, otherwise he would have had to get a crew in here to dismount it from the wall.

Taking a step outside the shop, Harry nearly stumbled over his own feet. Exhaustion hit him like a raging troll in a bathroom, his reserves were nearly spent.

While he was powerful at his current state, far beyond even some of the most trained individuals in the DMLE, wandless magic tired him quickly. Even Voldemort and Dumbledore rarely ever used more than summoning or banishment charms with it.

Stuck in an eight-year-old body that was malnourished, tired and not yet grown into its own magic, the magical exhaustion was a clear-cut case.

Harry carefully made his way back to Diagon Alley, not wanting to be mobbed or held up with his eyelids dropping in this kind of area.

Barely five minutes later he stepped back into the Leaky Cauldron. The sun was shining through the windows above him as he entered the common area with Tom already behind the bar. The man looked up and greeted him with a warm smile.

"Morning there! I honestly didn't expect any customers this early but please, have a seat young man."

Nodding his head, Harry sat down at a table in a corner, away from the warm rays. His cover story was a simple one but effective. He had previously already transfigured his muggle clothes into a black robe and while going commando was a bit uncomfortable, the disguise did its job. Clenching his teeth and frowning for a moment as Tom the barkeep turned to pick up a menu from behind him, his magic went to work and followed his will.

With a hollow crack that was muffled by an exhalation of breath, his jaw shifted a bit and Harry felt his canines jut into his lower lip, piercing the soft flesh. A wave of heat washed over his skin for a brief moment before it subsided. Two molten orbs replaced his eyes for a second as the pain in them reached indescribable levels before it too faded away.

When Tom turned back towards him he nearly dropped the menu in his hands. Where before a small boy had sat, blood red eyes and pale skin greeted the man and he had to blink his eyes rapidly to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

"Ah.. pardon me Sir, I must have been a bit more tired than I thought. Any preferences on the… blood?"

To say the barkeep was uncomfortable was an understatement as he barely met Harry's eyes now. He had to stop a small chuckle from escaping him as he looked at the man with a small smile.

"Any wizarding blood would do if it is available. If not, I have no real preferences. A few blood pops would be appreciated too."

Nodding, Tom quickly shuffled away. That he never fully turned his head away from Harry as he did so earned the man a **real** chuckle this time. He sometimes forgot how prejudiced even the most accepting people in the wizarding world were. It was always fun to rile them up from time to time.

Drumming his fingers on the table, Harry saw the door to the pub open and watched as two men sat down on a table not far away. They were in the middle of a heated discussion and barely even looked his way.

"… telling you it's the Cannons' year. They won the interim season and have had some incredible matches in the League. Sure, they lost all but one, but Horton is holding those rings tighter than anything I have seen in a long time."

"You are delusional mate. It's been over a decade that they had any chance at the Cup ever since Lancens left. He was who brought them back to their golden era in 75, and we all know it. Without someone like him joining the team again they won't even come close to finishing in the top three of the League."

It was obvious to him that they were having a rather heated discussion about a team that brought some bittersweet memories to Harry. Shaking his head to rid himself of any distracting thoughts, Harry eyed the bar that was currently empty of any presence and then let his eye wander back to the two wizards. More specifically, to the pouch of Galleons on the hip of one of them.

Harry had been contemplating how he would pay for his 'meal' for a good while now even before he entered the pub. Not to mention that he would also have to rent a room for at least a few days.

Once again making sure that no one was looking, Harry focused the last scraps of his magic and sent a tendril towards the pouch. Slowly, ever so slowly the top of it opened and a single coin floated out of it. Soon enough a few more golden brothers, a pile of silver sisters and a hand full of bronze sons floated over the ground as they made their way towards Harry's own pocket.

Where before he had contemplated confunding Tom or obliviating him to get a room, maybe even break into a home or two, this was a much simpler and cleaner way of doing things. If only shopkeepers in Knockturn Alley were trusting enough to leave at least a bit of money in the registers but no, it wouldn't be Knockturn Alley if they did.

At least for now he didn't need to steal from anyone poor. The hand full of coins in his pocket didn't seem to even make a dent in the bursting pouch of the wildly gesturing wizard a few tables away. Definitely a Pureblood.

"Here you go, Sir. Hope you enjoy your drink."

Seemingly having regained some of the cheer he had lost when he saw Harry posing as a Vampire, Tom dropped a mug full of sparkling red liquid as well as a few crimson colored lollipops on the table.

Thanking the man and handing over the three sickle and four knuts, Harry picked up his mug and gulped down nearly the entire thing at once. It was disgusting and not exactly what he would call a good breakfast, but it would have to do until he got into the Alley and could drop his disguise for another.

Why pretend to be one person when you can be two?

The Blood Pops were a bit better tasting, having a truck load more sugar in them than the normal blood he had just consumed, but Harry was too tired to finish them all and stepped up to the bar as another group entered the pub behind him.

"Morn' Tom" A voice exclaimed and Harry very nearly flinched when he recognized it.

Mundunges Fletcher had never been a man of propriety or poise, but the rags that hung on his body as he approached the bar next to Harry spoke volumes of the man's current lot in life. Dressing in clothes you wouldn't be caught dead in was something Harry understood, but the way Mundungus carried himself it seemed he reveled in his abyssmal state of attire.

"You'd never effin believe what I bleedin' heard this mornin' Tom," the man started, completely ignoring Harry as he stood not two feet away.

Raising a brow at the excited tone of the other wizard, Tom pulled out a few knuts and put them on the counter. Faster than Harry could even blink and they disappeared between the folds of the rags Mundungus was wearing.

"Been up close to the Ministry entrance early today talking to folks and all, you understand. Busy business.

"Anyways, I been conversing with some fine gentlemen for some time and lo and behold, Aurors suddenly start pooling out of that bloody visitor entrance. Asked them and I some rather pointed questions, but thankfully nothing stuck. Friend' of mine's been working there for a few months and I managed to get some info on the entire thing. Apparently, and this is totally top secret and all so don't tell anyone, Umbridge the effin Undersecretary of the Minister's been found dead in her office. Everyone was all hush hush about it but I tell ya, that is something I would have bloody loved to see."

Mundungus let out a raspy laugh that sounded more like gravel shifting beneath iron toed boots, not a pleasant sound.

"I don't ken how it happened, don't really care much to be honest with you Tom, but that toad was a nightmare if I ever seen one in human form. Nearly sent me to Azkaban once when I didn't effin sell her a pure silver necklace for a few bloody knuts."

Tuning out the rumbling man beside himself, Harry asked for a room and paid for three nights before walking upstairs.

That they had found the body had been expected. Whether the woman was really dead or not didn't matter too much in the grand scheme of his plans, so Harry shoved the thought aside for now as he stepped inside his new home.

It wasn't much to look at. A bed big enough for two, a dresser that had seen better days and a nightstand that had scratches on it, probably from an annoyed kneezle or two.

It wasn't much but it was his. For now at least.

Locking the door behind himself and having barely enough power for a simple alarm ward should someone open the door, Harry collapsed on the bed and fell asleep before his face even hit the pillow.

* * *

Harry awoke a few hours later with a crick in his neck.

Moaning loudly in protest as his entire body sent waves of pain through him when he began to move, he eventually stumbled out of the bed and into the small bathroom included with the room.

The pain wasn't really much of a surprise, channeling the amount of magic through his body as he had, it normally required years of training at the least. But it was an annoyance to be sure.

Washing his face and gulping down a few handfuls of water to quench any thirst, he began his normal morning routine, although it was probably closer to evening at the moment.

When he exited his room he went downstairs and walked through the now much fuller pub back into Diagon Alley.

Changing his form into an aristocratic and Pureblood look that could have been an offshoot to the Malfoys he went to get some food and tried to ignore the spike of pain when he used magic.

He really needed to finish his wand soon or he was going to die from magic poisoning.

But there were a few things to do before that, namely gathering a bit more information.

The easiest way would have been to pull another Umbridge and rip it from someone's mind, but that would create a pattern. An incident might be overlooked, a pattern however hinted at malicious intent and would bring Aurors on his trail faster than he could say 'Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans'.

Not that he could say that particular string of words very fast…

No, what he would do was simple. He would use something so ingenious and incredible that it couldn't possibly backfire.

He would play the child card.

Walking up to Flourish and Blotts, Harry made sure to bring a rather haughty look onto his face as he entered the store. Judging by the way people raised their eyebrows when they looked at him, his sneer was looking constipated enough to make any blond arrogant Pureblood proud.

The person manning the counter was a middle-aged witch with sallow features and a pair of glasses that looked oddly like the ones he had thrown away not long ago. Maybe she was one of those older Harry Potter fangirls that had sent him rather risqué letters and pictures over the years. The thought alone brought a bit of bile into his mouth that he had to force back down.

"Hello, dear. Anything in particular you are looking for?" Her voice was soft and friendly enough and he tried to not think of her outside her robes and other attire as those long-forgotten pictures entered his poor mind.

"Yes, I am here for some information on various people and subjects. As this is a bookstore I thought it paramount to come here first in my quest for answers as soon as I returned to Britain with my family."

Puffing out his chest in a proud manner as he talked about his family helped establish that he was indeed one of the elite.

"Well I am sure that I can give you at least some answers to your questions, dear. What would you like to know?"

And so he asked a few random questions that every Pureblood heir would ask when they entered another country while littering them from time to time with real ones.

Was Albus Dumbledore still Headmaster, Supreme Mugwump and Chief Warlock? How are Werewolves treated here? What was the story about this Boy-Who-Lived and was it really true? Who were the Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot? What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?

The usual, all things considered.

This was repeated over the evening as the sun sank beyond the horizon in quite a few shops until Harry had a good enough understanding of the world. Using a different face each time he asked someone helped to keep the process relatively low-key. Even if he now felt like death warmed over.

As far as Harry could tell, this was the one. The world he had been waiting for.

A few things were slightly off but there had been no major divergence of any kind. Everyone who should be alive was and everyone who wasn't, well they weren't around either as far as people knew.

It was the first time in a long period of stagnation that Harry felt a flicker of hope burning in his old soul.

If it was like this… yes, this he could use.

Here he could build and tear things down when they stood in his way.

He felt oddly at home.


	5. Chapter 4: A Weapon of Choice

**A/N: This Chapter will show a bit more of what can be expected from Harry power wise and discuss his motivations and future plans. For those of you who might worry about the direction or a similarity between a certain other fic when you come to the end, don't. My take on this will be _quite_ different, that much I assure you.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: A Weapon of Choice**

* * *

 ** _June 5th, 1988_**

* * *

Deep in a clearing of the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night, a small child could be seen carving into something.

Having spent the previous night at the Leaky Cauldron and using the day to not only gather a few missing ingredients but to also get to this point in the forest after flooing to Hogsmeade, Harry was currently working on his first major project in this reality.

His wand.

With his entire body now aching and feeling an occasional muscle spasm traveling through his limbs, it was a clear indicator to him that he was entering dangerous waters, having used too much magic without building up a resistance to it. It was one of the main reasons why children at Hogwarts started with simple things. Not only were their bodies slowly saturated with the natural magic of castle Hogwarts itself while adjusting to it and building a resistance to it, using too much of their own too soon would damage their bodies and could do the same to their cores.

Magic was, after all, still energy, and too much of _anything_ would never be good to you or your body.

Using a focus like a wand made guiding the magic in one's body a lot easier and lessened the excess that would normally flow through one when they used it. It would give the body time to adjust as the person in question starts to cast magic.

Grunting softly, Harry forced his fingers to still as he carved another rune into the handle of the bone. With the waning moon hanging high above him in the sky as his only source of light, the carving was more instinct and muscle memory gathered from other alternate realities than him having any proper view of his work that helped Harry avoid creating a forest fire. He rather doubted that the Centaurs, Aragog's brood or even the friendly Half-Giant himself would appreciate any accidents on his part. Being Harry Potter didn't always mean you had a get-out-of-jail-free card when it came to burning things. Something he still occasionally felt a little miffed at.

Breathing out one last time and letting his fingers run over his completed work to make sure there would be no mistakes, Harry stood with aching knees and walked towards the stone table he had sliced into form with an overpowered wandless cutting curse that really hadn't helped the already existing pain in his body.

The ancient Egyptian pentagram on said stone table and its runes were overlaid with a heptagram that had a few Norse runes at its points. And in the middle of the entire thing that had taken Harry nearly two hours of constant carving, lying innocently without a care, was the sinew of a long since dead Thestral.

"Now then, time to get this show on the road." Harry mumbled as he put the still shrunken and artfully carved bone over the Thestral sinew.

Mentally groaning a little at the odd requirements for this ritual, Harry quickly shed off his clothes and he couldn't help but shudder a little as the warm June air tickled against his bits which were now hanging free.

One more sweep of his eyes over the entire formation confirmed that everything was as it should be before he started the first step.

Bringing his hand to his lips and thanking his foresight in leaving his canines slightly sharp thanks to that vampire dress-up he was still doing for poor old Tom, Harry bit deep into his flesh until his palm was bleeding.

Careful not to spill even a drop on the forest floor below, he moved closer to his work and let his weeping hand hover over the two objects that would form core and wood for his wand.

And then he _spoke_.

 **"Like the first brother I give my blood to these objects of import, these objects of personal power."**

Immediately Harry felt the sounds of the forest quiet down as the entire surrounding area seemed to hold its collective breath.

 **"I give of my blood to form a pact between wielder and wand."**

A wind started to pick up around him as the carved lines on the stone started to glow with an unearthly power. Whispers, voices too quiet and old, high and low whipped up around Harry as he stood there naked as the day he was born with the first drop of his blood spilling on the bone below.

It began rattling against the stone immediately.

 **"May neither break before the last dredges of my blood expires, as is true for the blood of the ancestors gifting me with these objects."**

The whispers had started to become louder when the second drop spilled on the sinew and louder still when a veritable waterfall of red dripped on the entire rune cluster.

Whispers turned to voices, and they in turn evolved into screams.

The entire forest came alive with noise as hurricane like winds came up and flattened the surrounding trees in a thirty-meter radius, creating a clearing where before there had only been dense forest. Gouges started appearing in the ground, as if cut from invisible blades, while the entire work on the carved stone shone bright enough to light up the surrounding area akin to the rising sun.

 **"My name is Harry James Potter."**

The screams were now loud enough to nearly drown out what Harry was saying as a cacophony of laughter, crying, angry rants and fearful exclamations battered against his ears. He tried to ignore it all as best as he could.

 **"And the pact is now made."**

Immediately, the woods grew silent.

The ground started to rumble when the runes suddenly lit up bright enough to blind Harry for several seconds while he blinked away the spots in his eyes.

When he could see again, the first thing he spotted was the smoking form of a wand lying on top of the stone. A stone that had turned bright red and caved in considerably, like wet clay depressing beneath the foot of a Giant.

Harry could feel the heat emanating from the gleaming red rock like a physical force, but he tried his best to ignore it as he reached forward and picked up the ivory white fourteen-inch-long wand carefully. It had no real decorations or distinct features except a slight upwards tilt, as if in memory of the bone that it had once come from.

The moment Harry's fingers closed around the handle of his new wand, a cool draft seemed to shoot up into his arm, traveling to his chest and eventually connecting with his core.

The feeling was indescribably comfortable, and he couldn't help but smile as he twirled the newly transformed piece of bone in his fingers experimentally.

The sensation alone was nearly enough to distract him from hearing the stampeding footfalls of a group of Centaurs homing in on his location.

Looking around, Harry couldn't really blame them.

The light show alone would have people all the way from Hogsmeade looking his way, not to mention the absolutely deafening racket and rumble that creating this own personal wand had made.

Giving one last look at the new clearing deep inside the Forbidden Forest, Harry swished his new wand to summon his discarded clothes into his hands, twisted on the spot and disappeared from the area without even a pop.

* * *

 ** _June 7th, 1988_**

* * *

The air in front of the muggle entrance to the Leaky Cauldron cracked as the world slipped sideways. From out of seemingly nowhere, a leg stepped forward, before the form of a small child with brilliant green eyes that pracitcally glowed in the dark with a mop of unruly black hair on his head appeared where before there had been nothing.

Holding a bag over his shoulder that looked much too big for his small frame, another shift took place and the boy's eyes took on a red hue while his features grew slightly paler.

Without even missing a step, the entire transformation occurred while the boy stepped into the pub proper.

Tom's head shot up from behind the counter at the sound of the door opening and closing, before his face started to sport a rather forced smile when he saw who it was.

"Evening there, Sir. Anything I can help you with?" He said as he pointed at the bulging bag on Harry's back.

"No but thank you. I think I have it all covered." Flashing Tom a toothy smile that made the man's own a touch more forced when the light caught on a pair of fangs, the young boy posing as a vampire stalked past and up the stairs leading to his room.

With a bounce to his step and humming a little song that he had long since forgotten the name of, Harry ignored the small muffled noise coming from his bag as he accidentally bumped it against the wall on his way up.

Only when he had closed the door, whipped out his wand and cast a few of the strongest locking charms, alarm wards and traps that even old Egyptian tombs only rarely ever sported did he feel confident enough to drop the transformation. The sound of re-aligning bone and the burning feeling in his eyes long since something he had grown used to over the days.

Throwing the bag on the bed and absently noting the muffled cry coming from it, Harry cracked his neck once, then twice and interlaced his fingers to stretch his arms out for a few seconds before letting the magic slip from his muscles, no longer reinforcing them. The fatigue was sudden as it was brutal.

His arms and legs, the back and front, yes, even his face felt like one big sore spot.

The feeling of magical poisoning was a good bit weaker than it had been a few days ago thanks to his new wand, but reinforcing one's body like the eastern mages liked to do was tough on even trained individuals, let alone on the body of a 7-year-old boy. It was unfortunate that one had to start early or said magic became pracitcally impossible to master.

Allowing his wand to slip into his hand with a practiced twitch of the wrist, Harry flicked the ivory stick once and the bag dropped away to reveal its contents.

The face of a middle-aged man with greying blond hair and wild eyes met Harry's own impassive gaze. He was struggling against his bound limbs and muffled cries emanated from his stuffed mouth. Such a shame, Harry had quite liked that sock.

"Corban Yaxley. A pleasure." Flicking his wand, the sock left the man's mouth with the force of a homing bludger and he once more cried out in pain.

Sputtering for a moment while regaining his breath, angry eyes stared at the small figure standing before him.

"I don't know who you are, but I will make sure that whoever hired you wil-!" Letting out a short sigh, Harry silenced the man with another twitch of his wand.

"And here I thought talking to you would at least be a _little_ fun, Yaxley. Such a disappointing ending to our little exchange. No witty comebacks, not even snide comments about my malnourished body or odd green eyes and scar." The man's eyes widened significantly once he took that little detail in when Harry helpfully parted his fringe and he stared with a dropped jaw at said lightning bolt scar on the boy's forehead.

"A shame, really. I guess I'll just have to do what I brought you here for then."

Flicking his wand once more and ignoring the now fearful gaze locked on his own, Harry gathered his magic and with a happy smile muttered, "Legilimens."

Backed by his new wand and own magic, the occlumency shields blocking his path crumbled like so much paper.

Not wanting to repeat the earlier performance of leaving the man the same drooling mess that no doubt Dolores Umbridge now was, Harry flitted around in the tumble and ever shifting refractory of light that was the human mind a good bit more carefully.

Having mastered this particular branch of magic quite some time ago, it took barely fifteen minutes to find purchase in the man's mind for his fellow 'comrades' and to see if things were really as they seemed.

Avery Senior? Still alive and kicking. Avery Junior? Still a dick. Carrow twins? Both managed to stay out of Azkaban in this timeline too but ran a little shop in Knockturn Alley. Odd but not too far from the norm.

Harry went through memory after memory with a speed that would have boggled a lesser wizard's understanding as he archived the information carefully in his own mind while he coaxed evermore from the clearly repentant Death Eater that would never again hurt a fly. Harry rather doubted that even Severus Snape would have really regretted anything he did in that war if it hadn't inevitably killed Lilly. Someone like Yaxley? That war had brought the man some of his to date happiest memories, even if they came at the cost of a few raped and brutally murdered Muggles and Mud-bloods.

Still, there was work to be done and no time for distractions.

Rowle? Still a little bitch. Travers? Still likes his Half-bloods a little too much. Wilkes? Still dead. Voldemort? Presumably dead thanks to Potter brat.

Deciding that was good enough, Harry left the man's mind and twisted his magic through his wand in the all too familiar 'Tempus' spell.

Huh. Only 34 minutes. That was a new record time in digging through nearly twenty years' worth of memories.

Doing a little mental happy dance at the accomplishment, Harry pressed his wand against the slightly dazed man's head and mumbled both 'Obliviate' and 'Confundus' one after the other and pumping a little bit extra into the later.

"You will get yourself home. It is late after all. Tomorrow you will feel a need to travel. You will tell your employer that you are taking a few days off because you feel sick. You will then apparate towards Hogsmeade. You will then feel the urge to travel the surrounding forest a bit. You will walk for a few hours and enjoy the scenery. You will sit down and place your wand next to you on the ground. After a time, you will stand up and keep walking deeper into the forest until nightfall."

Ending the spell there, a now glassy eyed Yaxley nodded once before trying to stand despite his bound limbs.

Smacking himself mentally, Harry vanished the conjured rope and unlocked the door for the good man as he stumbled past.

Honestly, if he managed to survive a night in the Forbidden Forest without his wand, unable to apparate out or do more than cast a few weak wandless banishers, then the man deserved to live a little while longer.

Happy to have dealt with this little problem and finally sure that everything important was as it should be, Harry started to plan.

It was true that he had made quite a few plans over the many years trapped as he was in different and sometimes strange worlds, most of those plans however hinged on the simple fact of landing somewhere in the first to fourth year of attending Hogwarts. It was mostly because those were the years he ended up nearly nine out of ten times in.

On a few rare occasions he was even forced to go through the very early years of his life and start there. Honestly, that would have been Harry's favorite point in time to start over, even if it would have left him with little more power than the average witch or wizard being at only a few months of age. Still, it was enough to make sure that his parents and a few other key individuals would live through Voldemort's reign somehow. It honestly wasn't that hard to blast the bastard's body to shreds once you knew what rituals he had gone through. I mean, it _did_ take Voldemort nearly ten years to come back in some aspect the first time he was bodily killed, so that left more than ample time to deal with his little going away presents.

Harry's current situation was a little awkward, he had never really been thrust into this point in time before, so his normally tightly laid plans had been thrown for a bit of a loop.

It was clear however that he couldn't just fly by the seat of his pants any longer and that it was time to establish some key points where Harry wanted to change events.

The first thing that had come to his mind was to keep Luna's mother from dying. It was a small detail in the grand scheme of things, but it would have quite the effect on one little girl, and for the better, that was sure.

If memory served right, she died somewhere around May in the year 1990.

Next on the list was preventing Fudge from ever getting into office. Unlike Muggle equivalents, once you were Minister of Magic there was no timeframe for how long you kept your seat of power. So long as you didn't create some kind of massive public outcry or died, the office was yours until you abdicated.

Since Fudge would be elected on the 1st of November in the same year that Luna's mother died, that would be the next thing to work towards in the coming years.

But those were plans for the future.

Harry thought long and hard about his next step as he contemplated what he knew.

The big kickoff would be the 31st of July 1991, a point in time Harry privately liked to call the Beginning-of-the-End. A bit morbid, but it held true nevertheless.

Putting his hands behind his back, Harry started walking in circles in his small room.

His mind was adrift for a moment, a contemplative mood wrapping around his shoulders as he pondered the future. One step in the wrong direction could change a lot, but there were certain fixtures that would remain the same so long as he didn't start something enormous, like say World War 3.

If things stayed the same, a lot of bad would come swinging towards the innocent part of the population, small as it may seem to be sometimes.

With that in mind, Harry considered what he had already set in motion with his, now that he thought about it a bit more, rather rash actions.

Harry Potter had gone missing from Privet Drive for a few days now and Dumbledore was aware of that fact, thanks to little old Arabella Figg no doubt. A problem to be sure, but not an immediate one. The old goat wouldn't dare tell the wizarding public that their favorite savior/punching bag had gone missing after all. The pile of dragon dung _that_ little revelation would shovel towards Dumbledore's feet was much too big, even for a revered figure like himself.

So, a little story would have to be created. A plot that would explain why meek little Harry blasted his Uncle a good thirty feet while simultaneously rocking the house's foundations to its core.

Some imaginary figure coming to check on Harry? A long since thought dead relative taking him away from an abusive home and implanting false memories in the Uncle? Something like that would lead the Headmaster on quite a merry chase. Possibly even long enough until Hogwarts finally rolled around. Something for later to think more about at least.

Next on the list was the -kind of- murder of Dolores Umbridge. That would have some interesting implications for the future. Would maybe a more just or honest person whisper in the Minister's ear? Time would te-

 _Hold up_.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks in the room.

Dolores Jane Umbridge was Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, that much was true.

But she was in that position under _Fudge_ and not _Bagnold_. Thanks in part by a certain blond ponce of a Death Eater no doubt.

Furious at himself for not seeing an obvious clue like that, Harry started pacing aggressively in his room once more and went through the memories of the woman he mind-broke not too long ago with a little more eye for certain details this time. What he found was irritating as it was interesting.

She had apparently only been promoted recently, thanks to a rather cunning tactic involving both Fudge and Lucius Malfoy chipping in before the Wizengamot when the previous Undersecretary died of a rather dubious case of Dragon Pox. Harry had his own hunch as to who was responsible for that one.

The reason as to why she was promoted so early in this universe was found soon enough in a memory of a hushed discussion between Fudge, Malfoy and her.

It was simple as it was deviant.

In her new position, one that Bagnold didn't seem to feel too threatened by for whatever reason as she didn't protest the vote, Umbridge would have a _far_ easier time not only to keep an eye on the dear Minister but also to set her up for the inevitable fall that was needed for Fudge to become a viable candidate.

Honestly, Harry wasn't too sure now if the same hadn't happened in his own timeline in some way, shape or form, even if he would have remembered Umbridge having the same position that he was sure she would normally only gain in five years' time.

The point was, both Fudge and Malfoy were now in a rather awkward position with their own plans for the future.

She had been in her new position for barely two weeks and before she could dig up any substantial dirt she was now forever out of commission. It put a little smile on Harry's face when he thought about Lucius and how much gold the man had probably wasted in this endeavor for more power. A stray memory of the peacocks the man supposedly owned on his property and if they would now be served as dinner by Dobby had the incredibly old soul in a child's body snickering in cruel delight.

Enjoying the thought for a moment longer, Harry decided to get back on track.

His next step was already starting to crystalize for him in his mind.

With both Fudge and Malfoy off balance, the Ministry itself in an uproar about one of their own getting attacked like that deep in the bowels of the underground building and with one more person soon to disappear too on sick leave, well Harry knew he would have to capitalize a good bit to make sure that the Pure-blood block wouldn't be much of a faction anymore once he started at Hogwarts.

The idea of assassinating everyone who had once been a Death Eater was a pleasant thought but was quickly dismissed.

There was an inherent problem with that kind of plan, it either happened nearly all at once, or not at all. Considering there was only one Harry but dozens of targets, taking them all out in one fell swoop without anyone noticing was but a pipedream.

Counter to what movies tried to tell the population, a group of people that was getting picked off one by one did **not** stay in the same place and fought to the last man. They rather tended to scatter and took all their belongings and business with them.

Considering that a few of said Death Eaters had a strong grasp on Magical Britain's economy, well the disaster _that_ would create for the population at large or the panic it would spread went unsaid.

It wouldn't do much for Harry if he sent all those Death Munchers running out of the country only for said country to tear itself apart in a civil war shortly after.

Something like the Confundus was only ever good for one order that didn't last longer than a week and the Imperius was rather obvious once you crossed more than a single target, even for a skilled wizard. Not to mention that Confunding four or five dozen people weekly would consume more time than it was worth too if Harry wanted to remain unknown and still go to Hogwarts.

Doing one circle after the other in the room given to him by good old Tom, Harry slowly decided on a course of action.

He needed some kind of influence on the political stage and at the same time he had to make sure that Dumbledore wouldn't find him and thus drag him back to the Dursleys.

So, if he needed a parent figure for little Harry and a public figure for influencing opinions and shake things up a bit, well why not combine both?

A slow smile started to spread over Harry's face as he absently twirled his wand in his fingers.

Yes. He could work with this.

Oh, this would be so much _fun_.


	6. Chapter 5: Entering the Stage

**A/N: Wanted to get the feel of this chapter just right so it took a bit longer than I intended. This chapter shows a more... well Harry has become slightly odd over the years on top of ridiculously magically powerful. Also, Harry doesn't always know what is going on.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Entering the Stage...**

* * *

 ** _June 8th, 1988_**

* * *

Coming up with a workable identity took an afternoon and most of the night.

In the end, Harry decided not to mess with any of the older names, those that were best laid to rest. While he could have pulled a proper aged Peverell, returned from the grave or from century long isolation off, making sure that things stuck or wouldn't look too out of place would have taken much more effort.

Instead, he decided to go with the 'alive relative' route.

And so, on the 8th of June in the year 1988, Balthazar Potter was born. Harry had to admit, the irony of what that name itself meant played a big part of why he picked it. It was normally unwise to give your enemies any clues they could pick things up from but in this case, he just couldn't help himself. Call it an old man's folly.

Harry knew however, even with the background he had mentally picked last night, providing the actual evidence in form of memories that didn't previously exist inside more than a handful of people would take a bit of time and effort. Good thing his memory wiping and changing thereof was more than adequate for the task.

First things first, he would need to get some proper proof to his identity. Nothing was ever quite so convincing as a Galleon or two in the right hands for that one.

It was this truth in life that had Harry up bright and early leaving the Leaky Cauldron, evading Tom's ever wary gaze with a quick twist of his trusty ivory wand as the magic of a Disillusionment Charm settled on his body.

Making his way into Muggle London, Harry turned a few corners while absently casting anti-scrying, tracking, smell concealing, sight concealing, second-sight concealing and a whole plethora of other little useful bits of magic to keep any prying eyes or wands away. Only when he felt assured that even Dumbledore wouldn't be able to detect him when he was standing right before said man's crooked nose did he apparate.

The world shifted and where once had been the waking world that was early morning London now lay a dirt path lined with overgrown bushes as well as willow trees alongside said path. It was a quaint little area, with only the sounds of the surrounding forest as background noise compared to the normally every present clamor of too many people living too close together.

Harry felt himself relax slightly for maybe the first time since arriving in this reality. He hadn't even consciously noticed that he had previously been tense.

Twirling his wand through his fingers with a small smile, Harry made his way down the path with a slow stride. He wasn't in any real hurry at the moment after

It was a short but pleasant walk through the woods that did more for his old soul than Harry could currently really describe. It nevertheless added a bit of a spring to his step.

Closing his eyes softly as he reached his destination, he stopped and raised his wand up.

What he would have to do next was a bit more complicated.

Every magical being had a personal signature, some cultures around the world called it a scent, some an inner light, but everyone agreed that it was as unique as a fingerprint in the Muggle world.

This magical signature was why Goblins could keep thieves from entering somewhere they didn't belong, why the Magical Law enforcement could track people down when they casted illegal magic and also why the Dark Mark couldn't be removed from a person even in death. A lot hinged on this aspect of a magical being. It was one of the fundamental laws of magic.

And Harry was currently attempting to break it.

Honestly, if he hadn't had an unlimited number of retries, a dedicated runic array that kept his mind from going insane and a then immortal body he would have never made any progress with this particular branch of magic. It was just that volatile.

Pointing the tip of his wand against the middle of his brow where the inner eye rested, Harry focused.

He concentrated and recalled memories older than some Pure-blood families could call themselves pure. Harry focused harder than he had in a long, long time.

Because failure here meant certain death.

The _change_ came sudden as it always did.

For a moment, the world stopped.

Harry felt his magical reserves -incredibly vast as they were even in this unaltered state- drop like a stone being pushed off a cliff.

The air flickered around his body before colors washed away into a black and white corona of altered reality.

His body rippled like the surface of a disturbed pond before his features grew indistinct and molded themselves into a bigger, firmer shape.

It ended with a crack of displaced air.

The world continued to spin, and Harry drew in a raspy breath.

"Bugger me, why is it always so nasty!?" Asked a deep voice in an exasperated tone; and where once had been Harry James Potter now stood a man with the same unruly black hair, only longer and with more aristocratic features as well as deep blue eyes. Even his lightning bolt scar had disappeared from his forehead without a trace. His body was also currently naked and the clothes that little Harry had once worn lay on the ground in tatters. The only thing that wasn't different was the wand grasped in his fingers. Taking a quick glance at it, Harry snorted.

"Man, that would have been awkward. I manage to change my signature only for my wand to reject me because I'm not the right person for it. Good thing you aren't going to be so stupid about it." Twirling his wand in his fingers, Harry, or better now known in this form as Balthazar, turned towards his target.

Flicking his wand forward and turning it like one might a key, the air shimmered and a curtain seemed to drop away.

Where once had been a dirt path now stood an enormous wrought-iron gate. Between the bars, he could see a mansion of considerable size sitting on a small hill and a marble path leading up towards it.

And in the middle of the gate before 'Balthazar', clear as day and glimmering in the sunlight was the Potter family sigil. Three flowers set in a triangle on a black and white background with feathery wings on either side of the shield they were on.

With nary a sound, the gate swung open inwards and he lowered his wand.

"Welcome home, Potter," 'Balthazar' murmured to himself as he set his bare foot on the marble path.

* * *

 ** _Elsewhere at the same time_**

* * *

Shimmertooth sometimes wondered why he even bothered.

Not only had Surefoot managed to gamble an entire bag of Galleons from his claws last night, but now he also had to deal with this sorry excuse of a Wizard complaining to him why his inbred scum of a son was not on the Family Chart.

"-an atrocity I tell you! If this is not corrected immediately I will contact my friends in the Ministry and mak-"

Deciding enough was enough, Shimmertooth spoke.

"Mister Selwyn, it is unfortunate, but it appears your son has not inherited your," and here Shimmertooth had to force himself not to call it something else, "gift. These things happen, but as I said before, the Family Chart doesn't lie. If your son's name hasn't appeared on it after his third Birthday, then he has no real magic to speak of. At least not enough for the Chart to connect with his magical signature."

Completely ignoring the Wizard's smoldering glare as the man gnashed his teeth, Shimmmertooth lowered his gaze dismissively and went back to the stack of papers on his desk.

It took nearly a minute for the Wizard to finally leave, in a complete rage too considering his stamping feet. Shimmertooth allowed himself a small smile and looked over the next sheet of parchment, this one concerning another Wizarding line dying out with no next of kin. Sighing slightly to himself, he straightened the paper out and got to work.

If there was no next of kin, he would have to trace back as far as he could and see who was going to-

"Linekeeper! Linekeeper!"

Shimmertooth nearly broke his quill at the sudden shouting accompanied by the sound of running feet coming towards him.

Looking up from his work, he stopped for a moment to examine a rare sight indeed.

Goblins as a whole were a rough and hard folk, proud and cruel to their enemies but generally a fair people as long as one didn't cross them. Considering they hated Wizarding kind for centuries now it came as no surprise that they had ingrained none of those honorable values to their children when dealing with Wizards.

What they were not however was easily flustered or panicked.

To see two of his guards in the Hall of Lines come running towards him in full sprint with their armour clattering on their bodies and a look of utter panic plastered on their faces therefore came as a shock.

What they said next however managed to top that.

"T-the Potter line- it, someone new appeared as the Head!"

Looking uncomprehendingly towards his fellow Goblin for several long seconds, Shimmertooth simply sat there.

Once the words were turned over in his head however, he nearly jumped over his desk in his haste.

Completely ignoring the two Goblins running after him once more in full sprint and huffing and puffing exhaustedly, Shimmertooth raced through the doors leading to the Hall of lines.

Other Goblins he encountered looked perplexed as he sprinted past, but many of them decided to follow him in his hurry. Soon enough he had more than a squad or two of fellow kin running after him as he passed marbled pillar after pillar.

It took nearly five minutes to reach his goal and already he could see a crowd of Goblins and a fair few Humans clustered around it.

"Out of the way!" His voice was tinged deep in authority and threatening many kinds of painful death that managed to immediately open up a path for him and his fellow runners, so that they could make their way through more easily.

Gasping for air and holding a clawed hand against his side, Shimmertooth came to a stop before the correct marble pillar sporting the glowing stone tablet with an uncountable number of crossed out names on it.

Only two at the bottom that glowed especially bright were not.

One Harry Hames Potter, the supposed savior of magical Britain and by some heralded as the second coming of Merlin himself could be seen right beneath the crossed-out names of his parents. A warm blue glow tinged the name itself, showing that he was magical and not of age.

Beneath it was why he was here.

Firmly at the bottom of the tablet and engraved so deeply that it looked like the letters had been carved into the pillar behind it itself were only two words.

Balthazar Potter.

Shimmertooth stared long and hard at that name, and with it at the nearly blinding golden glare that tried to burn the letters themselves into his retina. He personally rather doubted he would ever forget that name after this.

A solemn silence had descended around his fellow Goblins as they all gazed upon something that couldn't be. The Humans seemed to realize that whatever this was, it was not supposed to happen. Already he could hear them whispering and sending a few of their own runners to their masters. No doubt the name would reach their ears soon enough.

After what felt like an eternity, Shimmertooth eventually managed to rip his gaze away from the earthshaking sight.

It was clear to him that history had been made here today. Things were changing.

Addressing one of his kin next to him, he spoke softly, softer than he might have even to his wife in the most tender of moments.

"Send for the Director. Tell her," here he paused for a moment, considering his words carefully, "tell her that the Potter line has a new Head. She will understand what that means."

Ignoring the slightly confused look of the Goblin in question, Shimmertooth watched him scuttle away with a deep sigh before once more staring at the name.

Balthazar Potter.

He truly wondered about the change that would come about thanks to this Wizard.

After all, one who could beat death and come back from it wouldn't just sit around and do nothing now, would they?

* * *

Harry arrived back in Diagon Alley barely two hours after finding the Master Key in the Potter Manor.

He had taken the time since to freshen up a bit and examine his appearance while trying on a few of the existing robes in one of the wardrobes. They were a bit old-fashioned for this time, cut a little longer than they normally would have been currently and adorned enough to show a good bit of wealth. But that was understandable if one remembered that these robes had been bought a good decade or so ago. Even in the Wizarding world's fashion changed over time.

Strolling through the busy streets and ignoring a look or two being thrown his way as he walked past, Harry soon enough saw the massive marbled building that was his destination.

Gringotts held a lot of good and bad memories for Harry but it was a place that never really changed no matter the timeline. It was one of the constants that had helped keep him sane.

Walking through the doors, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the flurry of activity inside.

It was clear that something was going on as more Goblins than normal patrolled the lobby and some of the human guards sported rather confused expressions on their faces as they seemed to have noticed this anomaly too. Most of the customers however hadn't.

Odd but not too important. As far as Harry remembered, nothing of interest really happened until the break-in during the summer he started at Hogwarts.

Walking up to a teller that had just become free, Harry addressed him politely.

"Good morning. I would like to access my vault."

The Goblin in question raised his head and examined Harry's, or rather Balthazar's features.

After what felt like a longer examination than normal the small creature spoke.

"Name?"

"Balthazar Potter."

Harry could feel the surrounding Goblins that were in earshot grow still nearly as one. The one before him did too but his eyes also grew to the size of dinnerplates for a few seconds before he seemed to have taken hold of himself. Always funny when you caught them flatfooted like that.

"K-key?"

Harry had to use a good bit of his still fledgling occlumency in this body to keep from bursting into raucous laughter at that stutter.

Dipping into his robes with his right, he fished out the key and put it on the counter.

The Goblin took it -with what looked to Harry like trembling fingers- and examined the object for a moment before handing it back to him.

Motioning for one of the guards close-by, the teller whispered into his fellow Goblin's ear for a moment before turning his attention back to Harry.

"Someone will arrive soon to bring you to your vault."

Nodding once, Harry amused himself for the next few minutes by examining the other customers and a few of the Goblins. He didn't need any mindreading tricks to feel the gazes on his back from quite a few of the Goblins. No real surprise there considering what he was trying to pull here.

Just when he was about to open his mouth once more to enquire from the teller what was taking so unusually long, a voice spoke up next to him.

"Mister Potter. I will bring you to your vault now."

The high-pitched voice had thrown him for a bit of a loop, but only when he turned around did he realize as to why.

Female Goblins were, unlike their male counterpart, much more akin to humanoids. That also entailed that they had a good bit more beauty to them.

This example was dressed in fine red garment that fluttered around her body quite nicely. Her big eyes were colored with an earthen green to them, a polite smile on slightly thin lips and pointed ears set on either side of a heart shaped face. She was by no means the prettiest female Goblin Harry had seen in his long life but calling her anything but would have been quite insulting.

Simply so that he wouldn't look like a gaping idiot while he had taken a good few seconds to examine the diminutive female before him, Harry said the first thing that came to his mind.

"Good to see that females of your kind have made quite a few inroads with working in the bank. You only ever rarely see the fairer of your race outside of the tunnels normally."

It had been meant as an honest compliment, but Harry wasn't sure why this particular female Goblin's smile had stretched quite so far, or why she was giving him this knowing look.

"I am sure much has changed since your last visit. The name is Faradh, just to sate any curiosity you might have on your part." The now named Faradh spun around, her gown swishing against her hips in a way that accentuated them nicely as she turned her head. With only half her face now visible, Harry still felt that the glittering eyes and quirked lips showed enough to know that she was openly smiling. It was a bit odd to see such an expressive Goblin, but he decided to simply roll with it.

"Shall we?"

Stepping up next to her, Harry nodded with a smile of his own.

"After you."

The journey to the carts was at first a silent one, with Faradh shooting Harry the occasional look.

Deciding not to seem too cold, Harry began once more to speak with the excitable little thing.

"To answer your previous query, I wouldn't know if things changed here in particular. It is after all my first visit to this branch of the bank."

Her eyes widened for a moment as she listened before the smile on her face grew another inch.

"You must know quite a bit about the world then, to never have been in need of your family's vaults." Harry simply nodded.

"A thing or two. I honestly didn't expect any of my kin to be here when I arrived."

With his backstory of being an orphan that ended up in Greece to learn magic and then traveled around the world in search of more fantastic magic and possible family, Harry felt his answer was as close to the fabricated truth as possible. He was therefore bewildered when Faradh let out a bell-like giggle for no reason he could comprehend.

"I'm sure it was a nice surprise, Mister Potter." Her smile at this point seemed to be as much a fixture on her face as her nose was. She was either slightly insane or quirky in the same way as Luna. Mentally shrugging, he decided to ignore her oddities from now on.

Their small-talk continued for a good bit as both entered the cart and began the roller-coaster ride down into the belly of the earth. During it, Harry learned that she had no siblings, that arriving at this position was quite a bit of hard work for a female like her and that she had been single for the past three decades. Honestly, he wasn't sure if he imagined it, but she might have been hitting on him. Maybe that explained all those looks she was shooting him when she thought he wasn't paying attention.

Examining her out of the corner of his eye, Harry had to admit once more that she was quite pretty. Maybe something to think about in the future if he kept getting those signals from her and knew her a bit better.

Faradh soon enough complimented him on keeping his stomach from getting upset after a particularly brutal barrel roll downwards at a ninety-degree angle. His answer of having experienced a lot worse in his life got him another knowing smile.

Their journey continued with explanations from the female Goblin on the security and what could be expected should someone be dumb enough to try and steal something from one of the vaults. Harry absently listened and gave the occasional comment as his eyes drifted over the sheer cave walls around him.

It was only when he spotted the matted dark green hide of something he was awfully familiar with in passing that his thoughts came to a grinding halt.

Harry was sure that if his life was a cartoon or even a book, he would have sported a brightly burning lightbulb just above his head at that moment.

Oh, it was a _bad_ idea.

Horrible even.

Completely insane too.

But it would make things easier on top of being fun to boot.

Call it a quirk of not having experienced real consequences for a long time, but Harry thought that announcing his presence to the magical world by beating a Dragon that escaped from Gringotts in single combat sounded like a marvelous idea indeed.

Quite fun too.

Now, how to go about it…


End file.
